It is curious amid the day’s duties and continual bustle of woodworker’s life to watch, note and compare the different degrees of skill manifested by the various hands engaged at their machines. I say “degrees of skill,” because no two men possess and are gifted with the same inborn ability.
Casually looking at the mortiser hand, I was led to observe that his work lacked smoothness of motion. He lifted the pieces up with a jerk, shoved them on the fence with a rush, and threw them down with an air of “d— this work, anyway.”
Stepping over to his elbow I asked him ”was anything the matter, or was he not feeling well?” Really he seemed to be venting some spite on the harmless material which was passing through his hands, and judging from the way it was getting bruised and broken, he was succeeding nicely. (more…)
Having served three years at my trade as a carpenter, five years as a floor mill millwright and machine wood-worker, I made up my mind that I could do business on my own hook. I first started by doing small repair jobs, reshingling roofs, building porches, and small house additions. On this kind of work (which I did at the regular price charged by the local contractor for my own wage, and furnished a man at a profit of 25¢ per day and a small per cent on some materials furnished) I worked along for a year, and then took a contract to build an ordinary eight-room house, furnishing all the materials and labor.
I had always kept track of the cost of the labor and materials for making frames and placing materials, noting the time that it took me to do all these things. I based my estimate for the house contract on this knowledge; and on this contract I made wages for myself and a small profit. By keeping careful account of the cost of labor and material, and comparing the cost of each item with my estimate of same, I was able to tell where some were high and some low. (more…)
The most gratifying class I teach has got to be the one on Roorkee chairs.
To be certain, there is the normal amount of “explaining how to make things out of wood” in the class. But in addition to that, we get to explore:
• Cutting and riveting leather.
• Stripping and installing steel hardware.
• Mixing shellac without a digital scale or math degree.
• HVLP spraying.
• Applying wax finishes.
• Make a three-legged stool.
• Dirty Irish songs.
Thanks to the simplicity – and genius – of these chairs, the pace of this class allows for crazy stuff. Sing a shanty. Demonstrate how to hand-stitch leather. Argue about wood species. Drink 3 liters of beer and talk about the state of woodworking.
Today we wrapped up a four-day class on building Roorkee chairs, and the students were able to complete building all of their chairs, including finishing them with shellac and wax. They completed all of the leatherwork. And they all built three-legged stools that were not on the lesson plan. (Thank you William Ng for allowing us to do all this crazy stuff and supplying us with tools, parts and awesome doughnuts.)
But the best moment (for me) came when one of the students sat in the chair he had just completed minutes ago and said the following words:
“This,” he said, “is going to get me some strange with the wife.”
Yup, I know that’s a little rude, but until someone says it about the class you just ran, shut up.
I’ve expended quite a few electrons recently, demonstrating that the “one year per inch of thickness” drying rule-of-thumb doesn’t work with thick slabs, both in terms of actual experience and in theoretical models of how wood dries. But that begs the question: Why, then, does the rule even exist? I haven’t been able to dig up any real evidence, but I can think of a few possibilities:
It’s close enough: For relatively thin boards (up to about 2″ or a bit more), it could be that our predecessors just figured that the rule was close enough. After all, 8 months is sort of a year, and 30 months really isn’t that much longer than two years, right?
We’ve got really wet wood: Some woods contain a huge amount of water when green. Such a wood, especially if it’s fairly low density, contains so much free water that getting rid of the free water can have a significant impact on the drying times. An example of such a wood is American chestnut—a species favored by our predecessors—whose green moisture content is a whopping 120%. Free water removal can make the initial stages of drying look more linear:
However, as the graph shows, the rule still fails with thick slabs.
We’re asking the wrong question: What if the answer is correct, and it’s the question that’s wrong?
“Alex, I’ll take ‘Woodworking Maxims’ for $600.”
– Jen Kennings
What if rather than, “How long will it take my wood to dry?” the question to the answer were actually, “How long until my wood is dry enough to use?” Let’s say that you have a 6″-thick slab of white oak that’s been drying for six years. Is it dry enough to use?
If you’re going to use it to timber-frame a barn, it’s more than dry enough.
If you’re going to use it as a cabinetmaker’s workbench, it’s probably dry enough, although it will continue to move a bit for the next several years.
If you’re going to make a Mid-Century Modern slab coffee table out of it, it’s probably not dry enough, since your customer is going to be upset a few years down the road, when it warps to the point that the ends have cracked and stuff starts rolling off the top.
If you’re going to cut it up into cabinet parts, it’s definitely not dry enough. In that case, you pretty much have to restart the drying clock from zero once the wood has been cut up.
First, I want to thank everyone for your continued support for our products, and your patience as we experience growing pains. We will always strive to put out the best material in the best form and get it to you in a timely manner.
That last point is the reason for this entry. We have received a number of emails from customers who have not seen any movement on their order when they click on the tracking number that was sent to them. The reason for this problem is that the tracking number is generated when the label is printed. We got a great response to our new book, “Campaign Furniture,” which has caused a backlog. Previous to this release, we “pre-sold” our books for approximately three weeks and offered free shipping during that period. With “Campaign Furniture,” we made the decision to not pre-sell the books and instead sell them only after they arrived to our warehouse (with free shipping for a limited period). This cuts the wait down from four weeks or so to less than two weeks. In the past – and as is the case now – we get a backlog of orders that have to be processed. We have been able to get through the backlog in less than 10 days, and hope to do better in the future.
The problem of customers not seeing any movement on their package tracking number is due to the backlog. The warehouse printed a large number of labels, which generated the tracking number emails to customers, then worked through the backlog. I was at the warehouse yesterday, and they will be caught up on the backlog today – so everyone should see movement on their order by tomorrow. If not, please email me at john@lostartpress.com
As always, we will ensure we make your order right although it may take a little more time than we would like. We will continue to improve your experience with Lost Art Press as best we can.
